


Someone for You

by MissCrazyWriter321



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Arcades, College AU, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Laser Tag, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 21:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16228088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: The night before Lucy's big final, she's stressed and upset. Who better to distract her than her dorky (sweet, handsome) best friend? What could go wrong? Or: The college AU no one asked for.





	Someone for You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crazytwist09](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Crazytwist09).



> I'm not saying that I'm posting completely self-indulgent fluff to make up for my last fic... But that's exactly what I'm doing. By the way, there actually is a reason Rufus and Jiya aren't in this. Originally it was going to be a four-shot series, with one chapter focusing on each of four couples. Jiya is freaking out because she forgot to study for a test, and Rufus is helping her. I decided to go ahead and post this, but who knows? I may come back and visit this universe one day. I really enjoyed writing for it!
> 
> Also, happy birthday to my dear friend, Crazytwist09. I'm sorry I'm a day late!!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas.

She was going to fail.   
  
That was all there was to it.    
  
Months she had been studying, combing through every textbook, noting timelines and highlighting terms. She'd written countless practice essays, spent every waking moment in the library all semester... And now, the night before the test, she could hardly remember how to spell "History."    
  
"I can't do this. I can't."    
  
The words on the page blurred, and she blinked hard, trying to bring them back into focus once more.    
  
What was she going to do? She couldn't fail this, couldn't ruin everything when she was so close to her life's dream. It wasn't like she had a backup plan. (Maybe that spot in the band was still open?)    
  
"Lucy?" An unexpected voice, tentative and concerned, pulled her from her thoughts. "What are you doing here?"    
  
"Garcia?" He looked exhausted, and she fought the urge to send him to bed, knowing he'd just turn it back on her. "I'm studying. Tomorrow is my history final, remember?" Her last one ever. Her final chance to prove herself. "What are you doing here?"    
  
"Looking for you." He frowned, studying her. She could only imagine how she looked, with wrinkled clothes, hair coming out of its tie, and a pile of books around her. Not that she cared how she looked around him, of course. This was Garcia. Her dorky, chess-playing, shy, (sweet, kind, handsome) best friend.    
  
Still. She tugged the hair tie out, smoothed her locks as best she could, and redid her ponytail.    
  
Just to get her hair out of her face, of course.    
  
"Well, you found me. Don't think I'm gonna be much company tonight, though." She turned back to her books, expecting him to give her space, the way he always did when she needed it. Instead, he hesitated. Watched her for a long moment. Finally, he cleared his throat.    
  
"What happened to not studying the night before a test? You know all of this already."    
  
"That's the thing: I don't. I can't remember anything, Garcia. Anything. And if I fail this test, I-I can't-" The words caught in her throat, and she wasn't quite sure how to finish. He waited patiently, and when she glanced at him, his eyes were unexpectedly tender. Soft. "I'll lose everything."    
  
He swallowed hard, and for a second, she thought he was going to protest, but then, he sighed. "You always do this," he reminded her. "You always freak out the night before the test, and think you're going to do a horrible job. Then, you show up, and blow it away." He grinned. "Besides, you'd practically have to misspell your own name on this test to fail the class. No, what you need to do is take a break. Relax. Have fun."    
  
She shouldn't.    
  
It was a terrible idea.    
  
It was reckless, and irresponsible, and her mother would hate it. (Amy would love it.)   
  
Although... You really aren't supposed to study the night before a big test, right? And her eyes were starting to hurt from staring at the textbooks. She raised an eyebrow at him, giving in. "Let me guess: You have an idea?"    
  
She'd never quite understood the phrase "cat that got the canary" until that moment.    
-   
_ "Archie’s?"  _ To say that she was skeptical of his idea was an understatement. Archie's Arcade was more than a little run-down. Half the games didn't work, and some of the lights randomly cut on and off for no reason. The owner, Archie Alfred, was... Eccentric, to say the least. Instead of normal prizes, like toys or video games, the only prizes he offered were rusted cans, cracked vases, and things that looked like they'd come from the clearance rack at Goodwill.    
  
Whether or not the place was haunted was a popular source of debate.    
  
Still, there was something in his almost childlike grin that was contagious, and she could feel herself giving in.    
  
"An arcade," he confirmed. "Now, come on! First one to a hundred tickets wins?"    
  
For just a brief moment longer, she hesitated. But any resistance that she might have had drained away at his hopeful puppy eyes, and she melted.    
  
"You're on."    
-   
It didn't her long to get caught up in the games, laughing hysterically as Garcia made ridiculous jokes. Maybe it was the atmosphere, or the lack of pressure, or the fact that she hadn't done anything just for fun in months. (Or maybe it was just him.)    
  
"Yes!" He did a dorky little dance, and she rolled her eyes, barely stifling a smile. He was definitely going to win this one. It was some sort of shooting game, and she could hardly even keep track of who her enemies were.    
  
Still.    
  
She fired at the screen, and winced at the slow, painful noise that followed. Yeah, she definitely lost.    
  
"Go again?" He offered, and she scoffed.    
  
"Why? So you can beat me again? No, thanks." Maybe her sarcasm would have been more convincing if she could have mustered an ounce of true irritation, but as it was, he just laughed.    
  
"I could teach you," he offered, gesturing to the game, and she hesitated. Pictured him gently positioning her hold on the gun, arms practically around her, like this was some sort of cheesy rom-com. Immediately, her face flushed.    
  
"Ah-no," she almost squeaked, taking a half-step back. "No, thank you, that's-that's fine. Maybe we should try skeeball again. Or the bumper cars?"    
  
His expression was more than a little startled by her sudden change in demeanour. Then, he frowned. "Or... Water? You look a bit red."    
  
Of course she did. "Yeah, it's hot in here." Not really a lie; had Archie ever heard of air conditioning? At least the fans seemed to (mostly) be working. "Water sounds really good."    
  
With one last skeptical glance, he gestured for her to lead the way.   
  
-   
"What happens if I can't do it? If I can't get a place in the history department?"    
  
They were sitting on the floor, backs against the wall, watching hoards of people walk by. They’d definitely both needed that water break. In spite of the chaos around them, it was oddly peaceful. The two of them, alone in their bubble, shoulders brushing. (It felt like too much, far too much, but she was too tired to question it.)    
  
He considered her question slowly, which honestly surprised her; she had expected outright denial of the possibility. Finally, he hummed. "I could support us both with my music." A teasing smirk flickered across his face, and she laughed in spite of herself, rolling her eyes.    
  
"First: As if," she started, nudging his shoulder, "But second... We both know you'll meet some girl and forget all about me." It was meant to be a joke, but an unexpected wave of melancholy hit. It wasn't as if she was-if they were-well. It wasn't as if the thought of him with another girl should have bothered her. It wouldn't mean the end of their friendship.   
  
(But things would change. He wouldn't be her guy anymore, in any sense of the word. After Wyatt, she never wanted to rely on anyone again, and yet...)   
  
And yet.   
  
He turned to her, and she found that she couldn't quite meet his eyes, so she forced a smile, studying the stitching of her jeans. "I doubt that," he murmured, and she frowned. It was hard, hearing him talk that way. He was a great guy, but in all the time she'd known him, he'd never once been on a date. After his highschool girlfriend's death, he'd sort of shut himself off to love, and it broke her heart.    
  
"Hey." She looked up at him, trying to convey every ounce of sincerity inside her. It was hard to hold his gaze, to meet the unexpected tenderness in his eyes. "You'll find someone, okay? I promise, there's someone out there for you."    
  
He blinked, and his expression shifted, eyes wide and vulnerable. His mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he were struggling to find the words to reply. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Lucy, I-"    
  
"Lucy?" A familiar squeal drew her gaze away from him: Amy, practically bouncing in place. When she looked back, he looked utterly normal, without a hint of the earlier conflict.    
  
Her sister wasn't alone, she noted. Wyatt and Jessica stood awkwardly behind her, along with an old friend of Wyatt's. Dan? Don?    
  
"We were just about to go laser tagging," Amy babbled, and Lucy's stomach sank. She had a horrible feeling that she knew where this was going, and she regretted, not for the first time, not telling her about Wyatt. "You guys should come with!"    
  
She hesitated, glancing at Garcia. He shrugged, a silent assurance that it was up to her. And, well... She really didn't want Wyatt to think that she was still upset about what happened between them. "Sure. Let's do it."    
  
-   
The teams were quickly decided: Boys versus girls. It was terribly unfair, and they all knew it, but Amy could not be dissuaded.    
  
The arena was actually fairly impressive: Two stories high, with dozens of pathways and corners to linger in. Amy and Wyatt's friend, apparently named Dave, played rock-paper-scissors for the top floor, and Amy won. Lucy had a sneaking suspicion that would be their only win of the night.

Sure enough, in spite of her best efforts, she quickly came to an important conclusion: She was really, really bad at this.    
  
There was no denying it, as much as she would have liked to try. She nearly tripped over her own feet twice, and her aim was terrible, especially when she was having to dodge as well as shoot. Finally, she settled for avoidance: hiding behind walls, slipping through corridors, and spending as much time as possible in the designated rest zones. When she thought she had a clean shot, she'd try, but that was rare.    
  
Footsteps alerted her to someone getting close, and she ducked into the nearest rest zone to breathe. 

 

Froze.    
  
Of course. Of course, he'd be there. Garcia Flynn, eyes sparkling with amusement. The footsteps were almost on top of them, and she was almost sure they were Wyatt's, (and how she hated that she still recognized his steps, of all things,) so she couldn't go back out. She was trapped.    
  
He tilted his head, considering, and for half a second, it seemed like he was going to take the shot. Then, he lowered the gun, gesturing for her to take her time.    
  
Was this some sort of trap? She wasn't sure, but she was too exhausted to refuse. Keeping her own gun in hand, just in case, she leaned back against the wall, taking in a gulp of air. Letting her gaze settle on the man before her.    
  
He was still smiling at her, impossibly soft now, watching her catch her breath. A rush of affection washed over her, and for once, she didn't fight it, didn't try to pretend it wasn't something that it was. She was hot, and sweaty, and exhausted, and _ happy, _ and it was all because of him.    
  
As always, he picked up her change in mood. Suddenly cautious, he swallowed hard, tongue darting out to wet his lips. A nervous habit of his she'd noticed over the years. It was always a bit distracting, but just at the moment, with her heart warm and full, and his eyes soft and unsure, it was much worse.    
  
Of course, she couldn't do anything about it. He was her best friend. It would be reckless to close the gap between them now. What if he didn't want this? Them? What if he left her, too? (Although, a voice at the back of her mind whispered, wasn't she already being reckless?)

  
If he asked later, she could blame adrenaline.    
  
She let her gun slip from her fingers, ignoring the slight tug it gave her vest as it fell. Focused on the way his eyes widened, half-uncertain, as he watched her. Took a step forward. Then another, when he stepped back, automatically giving her room. She smiled. Stepped forward again. He blinked, but didn't draw back again, even as she stood centimeters away.    
  
Last chance to back out, she thought.    
  
His gaze flickered to her lips, then away, as if he hadn't meant to look. His breathing was sharp, uneven, whether from the game or their new position. He was gorgeous and lovely and  _ good,  _ and there, right in front of her.    
  
She didn't want to back out.    
  
His shirt was soft, and she used it as leverage, yanking him down to her. He gasped, a sound lost between them as their lips met, but didn't hesitate to pull her in. One of his hands threaded through her hair, curving around the back of her head. The other drifted to her waist, pulling her closer, closer, as they moved. (If she'd known that he kissed like this, she would have kissed him a long time ago, never mind the consequences. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, but most of all, she couldn't imagine letting go.)    
  
There was an urgency to his touch, to the way he pressed his lips to hers over and over, almost frantic, as if he thought this might be only chance.    
  
Maybe he did.    
  
The thought sobered her a little, and she forced herself to pull away, keeping hold of his shirt. (He chased her lips for half a second, and she very nearly fell back into him.) She searched his eyes. They were wide, hopeful and cautious, and utterly fond.    
  
She drew in a few steadying breaths, letting her hands drift down to his arms. He relaxed just a hair, settling both hands against her waist. Waiting. (Waiting for her. How long had he been waiting for her?)    
  
"I-Garcia, I-" She wasn't quite sure what she was going to say, but whatever it was, the words were stolen by a voice echoing through the hallway.    
  
_ "Lucy?" _ Amy's stage-whisper was almost ridiculous.  _ "Where are you? We're losing!"  _ __   
  
Right.    
  
Game. Laser tag. Sister.    
  
Impulsively, she retrieved her gun, firing before she could second-guess herself. Garcia took just a second to realize what she had done, to glance down at his own vest. Too late, she realized how might take it. If he thought she'd kissed him just as a distraction...   
  
But she needn't have worried. In the next instant, a huge grin spread across his face, and he beamed at her with nothing less than total pride.    
  
Feeling suddenly playful, she winked. "Gotcha!"    
  
“Atta girl,” he whispered. And if she thought, for half a second, that he said ‘That’s my girl,’ she wasn’t about to complain.      
  
As much as she would have loved to stay there with him, Amy was still waiting, and they had a game to at least try and win. Later, she promised herself. They could talk about this later.    
  
With a last lingering glance, she disappeared back into the arena.    
  
-   
The girls lost.   
  
They made a valiant effort, certainly, and Jessica helped tip the scales in their favor a little, but in the end, they were simply no match for two military men and a three time paintball champion.    
  
Afterward, Wyatt and Jessica made their excuses and left, walking in opposite directions. Lucy's heart tugged, and not for the reason she would have expected.    
  
Wyatt loved Jessica. Lucy knew this. And she desperately wanted him to be happy. But just because he was ready to mend whatever they'd shared didn't mean that Jessica was.    
  
Amy and Dave visited for a bit longer, lingering, but finally, left in search of pancakes. (Why they couldn't find a normal dinner food, Lucy wasn't quite sure.)    
  
And then there were two.    
  
"So, what's next?" She wouldn't be opposed to some dinner herself. Or maybe a walk? (Anything to spend a little more time with him, in this little bubble that seemed too good to be true.)    
  
He was still grinning like a sap, had not actually stopped since their kiss, but when he answered, it was a regret-tinged: "Now, I drop you off, so you can get some sleep."    
  
What?

 

All gears in her brain came to a sudden and painful halt. Maybe she’d misread him after all, if he was so ready for the evening to be over. Maybe he really had kissed her because of adrenaline. (Or more humiliatingly: Pity.)

 

“Oh. Okay.” She tried to force a tight smile, but of course, he saw right through it. Frowned, silently imploring her to talk to him. Almost without thinking about it, she did. “I-before. Is it okay that I-”

 

The look he gave her was unbearably warm, and she trailed off, dropping her gaze. “Well?”

  
_ “Lucy,” _ he breathed. “It was-it was more than okay, Lucy, I just-” His cheeks tinged pink. "You do have a test tomorrow, remember? And I'd rather not be responsible for messing that up."    
  
He was right. Of course he was. The tightness in her chest eased, and she sagged in relief, leaning back against his car. Of course he was thinking of her, even now, with everything that was happening. Her heart swelled, just a bit.   
  
Did that stop her from pouting? Absolutely not.    
  
(The warm, rich laugh he gave left her slightly breathless, wondering how on earth they hadn't gotten here before. How she'd never looked at him, and let herself think about how absolutely gorgeous he was, especially when he was happy. His eyes danced in the low light of the parking lot, lips curled, and she swallowed hard.)    
  
She pressed a kiss to his cheek when he dropped her off, and the stunned smile he gave her was the best thing she'd ever seen.    
 -    
By silent agreement, they didn't talk about it until she got her grades back. Still, it wouldn't be accurate to say that nothing changed.    
  
He was more tactile than ever, casually draping an arm over her shoulder when they were out, tucking her hair behind her ear whenever it blew in her face, and playing with her fingertips whenever he was bored. For her part, she met his every touch, leaned into his hand, and rested her head on his shoulder when she was tired.   
  
They knew. They both knew. But she wasn't ready to talk about it.   
  
Until she was.   
  
She didn't hesitate to leap into his arms, knowing without a shadow of a doubt he would catch her. He did, laughing and spinning her, half surprised and half joyful. "You got your grades back?"    
  
"95!" She giggled into his ear, and he held her even closer, smiling against her neck. "I made a 95!"    
  
"See?" She felt the word as much as she heard it. "I told you."    
  
Smug jerk, she thought, with more affection than the phrase deserved. Just for that, (and because she wanted to, and she was ready,) she pressed her lips to his, shutting him up. He chuckled against her mouth, before shifting her in his arms, falling into the kiss.    
  
When she finally pulled away, breathless and practically floating, he grinned, finally setting her back on the ground. "You did it."    
  
"I did." She hesitated. "So... Now what?"    
  
What exactly she meant, she wasn't sure. For them? For her future? Maybe.    
  
In any case, he considered the question, and held out his hand. "Now..." She reached out, meeting him halfway, and his fingers curled tenderly around hers. "Now, we figure it out as we go. Together."    
  
The last words were just a bit shy, as if he still wasn't quite sure this was actually happening, that it actually meant what he wanted it to mean. She squeezed his hand gently, and nodded.    
  
"Together it is." 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!! Fun fact: I hoard reviews like a fanfiction dragon!


End file.
